Little Brother
by HiddenEye
Summary: "We've lived more than a century, Nico. A century," She shook her head slightly, a little bit in disbelief on how long they actually walked on this earth, and she wasn't stopping there anytime soon. AU Bianca di Angelo survives. One-shot.


Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their respectful owners.

A/N:I was inspired by Minuiko's art, which is this post/73697699368/au-where-bianca-di-angelo-survives-and-nico AU where Bianca survives and this made me feel sad.

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There was something unsatisfying laying in her gut.

This feeling of unease churning and twisting inside her as she walked through those gray halls, the smell of sickness and medicine wafted in the air like a disease as her fingers wrapped around the stems of the white lilies in hand, people garb in whites walked or either wheeled passed as hushed talks barely echoed around her. She straightened herself as she continued on her way, trying to ease the feeling as she passed the nurse helping the patient to have a drink.

Bianca never liked hospitals, even if the facilities were much better than before, where in her time, they were more independent on hope and faith. But the smell was the same, the same whiff of death was still lingering in the air, but it was overpowered by the medicine they have nowadays.

Death, she had been dancing around it for her whole life, always careful, always aware. Even with her immortality, never to age a single day, always young and free from the grasp of getting old, there were risks of her getting murdered.

But, her brother didn't have the same fate.

When she stood in front of his door, she paused, her heart clenched a bit. But then, she let her hand pressed against the surface, and pushed it open.

Laying in bed, old and withered, was none other than her baby brother, Nico.

He had his eyes closed, breathing heavily as he slept, tubes poking into his nose so to let him breathe better. A needle was buried inside the back of his hand as the water dripped from its bag, the beeping sound of the machine rang inside the room, sounding monotonous and ironically, dead.

She felt the uneasiness tightened as she closed the door softly behind her, and walked slowly to his bedside, plopping herself on the chair someone previously occupied from the day before. She set aside the flowers on the table, beside the dying ones inside the vase other people brought from last week.

Nico was no longer the little boy she used to wipe his face with the handkerchief their mother gave her, no longer the little boy who would jump into her arms the moment he saw her. He was a man, had outgrown those baby fat around his cheeks that she would fondly squeeze, had grown far taller than her that she had to tilt her head up in order to look at him in the eye. And in the end, his raven hair had finally changed to gray.

It always sadden her every time she visited him. On every visit, his appearance would change, his frame would turn sharper, his eyes wiser.

And to think, she was starting to feel that a hundred years was nothing.

As a Hunter of Artemis, she was bound to her duties, and so giving her sibling a visit was rather hard. If she was lucky, she would see him twice a month, or not, it'll take more than half a year to see how he was doing.

She wasn't blind nor was she naive. Decades ago, when he was growing, he was getting mature, she could see that, and yet she couldn't help that sometimes she felt selfish. She didn't want him to grow up, she didn't want him to leave her as he fade away, with her staying alive until the end of time. She was the older sibling, was she not? It was always her responsibility to protect him, to see that he would be unharmed.

But, things were not always what we want.

She let her hand rest on his bigger ones, rubbing the back of his knuckles with her thumb as she sighed softly. "Little brother," She murmured, dark brown eyes searching his face. Then, she let out a small laugh, ducking her head that strands of hair fell. "Not so little anymore."

"No."

Snapping her head up, she saw the way the corner of his lips tilted up slightly, fluttering his eyes open that she couldn't help but smile herself. "This isn't fair, Bianca," He rasped, but the tease in his voice was there. "You're not supposed to look as young as Hazel's granddaughter, it makes me feel older."

She chuckled, squeezing his hand with hers. "What can you do? You're already old."

He squeezed back faintly. "Too old." He agreed quietly.

Some sort of pain pricked at her heart, and she ran her thumb on his knuckles again. "151 years old, we've lived more than a century, Nico. _A century,_" She shook her head slightly, a little bit in disbelief on how long they actually walked on this earth, and she wasn't stopping there anytime soon. "It's all so surreal."

"Hazel's grandkids didn't believe me at first when I told them I was 130 years old, said I looked like any other 60-year-old granduncle," He laughed, which caused him to cough violently, and she quickly gave him the glass of water that was on the table.

The corner of her lips quirked as he drank, helping him hold the glass. "I'd like to meet them someday," Then it widen. "They'll probably wouldn't believe me too if I ever said I was your older sister."

He scoffed as she put back the glass. "They'll probably fall flat on their asses, I could bet on that."

"How's Hazel?" She asked as she glanced to the flowers she brought, and stood up to throw out the old ones.

She saw the way his eyes soften. "Still strong, even after years of being alone, she still can throw a pan pretty far," He sighed. "Frank left her too soon."

She knew of her half-sister's husband, on how he was chased by a gang of rogue Cyclops when he was on his way home from work, and he managed outrun them as he collapsed on his own doorstep. He died with internal and external bleeding in his wife's arms, their three children watching fearfully from the shadows.

At that time, Nico came as fast as he could when he got a call from his eldest niece, but he was too late when he saw Hazel sobbing into Frank's bloodied shirt, clutching onto his hand as the shape-shifter's body lay limp.

She attended his funeral. She remembered how the sun was actually shining brightly on their solemn faces, how the small breeze blew on them softly as one by one they paid their condolences, tears falling down their cheeks. She actually liked Frank, he was a good man, a brilliant husband and father, albeit he was slightly terrified of her when they first met, but they got along quickly, easily slipping into a conversation they found in common, which was mostly about archery and other things.

And now, he's dead.

"Those used to be Mama's favourite."

She paused from where she was arranging the flowers, letting her fingers linger on the white petals. "There were," She confirmed, watching the way he stared at them, some sort of old remorse glowed dimly in his eyes, reminding her of the candles they would use to sneakily read books during the time they were supposed to sleep when they were much younger. "She always loved them, especially white ones like these, since they always smelled nice."

"White lilies," He whispered, reaching out to brush one with a finger. "They've always bloom so beautifully," He then met her eyes, and she saw the same determination he always have lit up in those chocolate orbs. "Just like her."

She could feel the lump at the back of her throat as he settled back in his bed. She knew he missed their mother as much as she was, he could probably see it too.

"I don't want you to leave me," She suddenly blurted out. "You're my brother, I can't let you go without me," Her voice faltered, her jaw locking and unlocking. "Not you too."

He gave her a smile. "You'll find me, like you always do."

She sighed. "Will I?"

He gave her a knowing look. "It's always been that way, hasn't it?"

She stood there for a moment, before leaning forward and pressed her lips to his forehead with a hand cupping his cheek, a gesture their mother would always do to them every time she could. "Little brother," She murmured, feeling the tears teasing at the corner of her closed lids. "You've gone through so many challenges and succeeded them all, Mama would be so proud of you, as Father always is."

A breathless chuckle escaped his chapped lips, covering her hand with his as he closed his eyes in content. "As they are to you, dear sister."

She leaned back, but kept her hand on his face as a wry smile stretched upon her lips. "May the stars shine bright for you."

"For all of us." He told her quietly, squeezing her hand in reassurance.


End file.
